I push my untouched plate away. “I know, but —”
My father speaks across me. “People are talking. First the doctor, then the lawyer, and now the town mayor. Ichabod was seen near every one of the crime scenes.”
I stare at my father, unsure if I’ve heard correctly. I’m surprised Phillip Van Tassel, the man of science and logic, is listening to town gossip. He can’t think Ichabod has anything to do with this. Ichabod works at his university, for Christ’s sake. And what’s this about him being seen? I was there last night. If Ichabod was seen, then so was I. But there wasn’t anybody else around.
“Ichabod didn’t kill anyone.” I say simply.
“You don’t know that,” my father says. “It’s not safe. I told you before you’re not to see him, and I meant it.”
I start to reply, to point out that I waswithIchabod and I know it wasn’t him, but before I can say anything, Meredith speaks up.
“Philip,” she says gently, leaning across and placing a hand over his. “Ichabod has always seemed like a decent young man. Are you really so sure he could be behind this?”
Father’s mouth tightens. “I won’t take that chance.” He turns back to me, his voice low and firm. “He is no longer welcome here. He won’t be teaching music lessons, and he will most certainly not be seeing you.”
Up until this point, Toby had been picking quietly at his eggs, but now he lifts his head.
“No music lessons? But the winter recital…” He trails off under Father’s stormy expression.
Father sighs. “There will be no more lessons. And there will be consequences, Katrina, if I hear you’ve still been seeing that man.”
I almost want to laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“But he hasn’t done anything!” I insist. “I know he hasn’t, it’s…” I stop, unable to finish the sentence. How can I sit here at the breakfast table and accuse the Headless Horseman of being behind the attacks? They’d all think I’ve completely lost it.
Meredith sighs, one elbow on the table, her fingertips rubbing her temples. “I just can’t believe it, Philip. There has to be another explanation.”Ever the mediator.
“There isn’t,” my father says flatly. “This is final.”
I can see that I’m fighting a losing battle. I swallow and briefly close my eyes.Am I really going to say this out loud?
“I know it isn’t Ichabod, because as you said yourself, I was with him! I saw the whole thing, and it was… It was the Headless Horseman. He’s the one behind all the attacks.”
I look up in time to see my father’s face turn an unhealthy shade of red. Although I hadn’t really expected them to believe me, I hadn’t anticipated this reaction.
“Katrina Van Tassel, never mention that silly superstition in this household again,” he explodes.
I shove my chair back, cheeks flaming. “This is ridiculous.”
“Katrina,” Meredith reaches for me. “Maybe just stay away from Ichabod for a little while, at least until this is all sorted out.”
I glare at both of them. “You’re making a mistake.”
I push away from the table and storm out of the dining room, my heart pounding. If my father thinks I’m just going to abandon Ichabod, he’s dead wrong.
I pace the length of my bedroom, the drapes pulled back to reveal the moody sky beyond. Rain patters lightly against the windowpane, running down in rivulets. My mind is racing. I know my father is only trying to protect me, but he’s wrong about Ichabod, and I don’t know how to convince him otherwise. He’s always been so academic, only believing what’s firmly rooted in fact. I should have known there’s no way he’d react well to talk of legend or superstition.
But the Horseman needs to be stopped before Ichabod gets blamed for any more deaths. And I have no idea where to start.
I stop in my pacing. Something has caught my eye. Or rather, the lack of something has. I stare at the wooden dresser top. Empty except for a large oval mirror and my tired-looking hairbrush. Where is the KVT diary? I know I left it there this morning. Now it’s gone.
My gaze sweeps the room, looking for anywhere else I might have put it. But I’m sure I moved it to the dresser just before I left for breakfast. I crouch down to look under the chair, in case I accidently knocked it to the floor. Nope, not there either.
A soft knock at my door startles me. “Katrina?”
It’s Meredith. I hesitate before sighing and pulling the door open. She steps inside, her smile sympathetic.
